Beneath the Starry Sky
by FrostedFire
Summary: Harry, after the war, is nothing but an Auror who has lost his best friend, his girl friend. His only gain seems to be finding a curious painting, who's arrival seems to be nothing but positive. What's this picture about? What is this mysterious school he heard about? And why does Luna have strange employees? Rated T.


_I, Fai, own absolutely nothing but the strange ideas. Harry Potter does not belong to me._

**Summary:** Harry, after the war, is nothing but an Auror who has lost his best friend, his girl friend. His only gain seems to be finding a curious painting, who's arrival seems to be nothing but positive. What's this picture about? What is this mysterious school he heard about? And why does Luna have strange employees?

**Pairings: **Romione and Nuna for this chapter.

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**Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.**

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_ "War was over, and had been won. Consequently, the war had taken up into the hearts of young men, women, and creatures alike, leaving their bodies still thrumming with the heat of battle. It was a disease, perhaps, which had strung the children of the fight with an overwhelming sense of apprehension, forcing their minds towards the aftermath with hatred brimming over their purpose. The illness, with its crawling arms and legs, dangled over the edges of each face, and forced growling snouts towards the broken up visions of Hogwarts, watching as the broken and unclasped homes were scattered among the ashes. And as we know, from war is created hatred, and from hatred is born fear. Fear is our one killer; fear is what has sent us into the dark, created the laws which many cannot understand."_

_Luna Lovegood, Head of the Quibbler_

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Harry slammed down the newspaper with a frustrated look plastered on his face, his hands instantly moving to tear it up. Of course they had written about it, about the war which they had very nearly lost, completely due to lack of preparation. But he did not expect Luna, of all people to have written such a precocious article without having consulting her friends, especially those that started the very same war.

Was this betrayal? Had he been betrayed by a very close friend, who he had trusted with his life?

In hindsight, he should have expected that. She had become outspoken during war-time, especially when given the rights to be in charge of her own sector during the Battle of Hogwarts, as they had begun to call it. Could it have been pride that cajoled her to print such a dangerous statement?

But was it, in essence, a statement which he could consider to be vile? Jet green orbs hastily scrambled to look over the still unripped article, attempting to place logic within the confusing lines. What laws? Had something been created that he was unaware of? That could not have happened; he was already in his third month as Auror, and was positive that most decrees were sent to his desk before being made law, just by Kingsley's request.

Yet the thought of such rules would shine light onto what Luna was attempting to portray, especially with his silly thoughts fading into the background. It was ridiculous, really, that he thought that the sweet Ravenclaw would even do something similar to that. She was loyal, as loyal as a lion was. An honorary Gryffindor. And what did she even have to gain? Neville would never stand for it, and seeing as they had _something _going on, he was quite positive that she wouldn't give up love for money.

At least, that was what he thought.

The thoughts led to even more ideas, each more bizarre than the last. Could she actually mean that it was his fault that the Wizarding World was still wrapped in fear? Or was it simply a ploy to get more readers for the Quibbler? Had he looked too far into it? Was this because he and Ginny had broken up?

That, in all actuality, would have made sense. It wasn't an amicable breakup, with him walking in on her with Draco Malfoy, of all people, and her continued denial of there ever being something between the two of them. When he had brought up the topic with Ron, who was _supposed _to be his best friend, they had immediately broke off their seven-year relationship, just because of a scarlet woman who could no longer stand who he had become.

At least Hermione was still with him, always loyal.

So one could expect his immediate scepticism in response to the newspaper, and perhaps even understand why he would be confused as to the general reasoning. It was only typical for a man to feel betrayed, especially after being betrayed multiple times.

Only natural.

He kept this thought primary in his thoughts as mid-morning passed, nothing coming to his desk but boring office papers. They had been sifted through, acceptable signatures provided, until, at long last, it was time for his lunch break. Harry cast a frustrated gaze towards the clock which loomed over his desk, peeking around for the date. Noting that the odd clock happened to supply the info (for some reason, he did not question it), the man shuffled out of his cubicle.

Wednesday. That meant he would get to eat lunch with Hermione and Luna, the pair who had become very close to being his best friends. Although Luna was nothing like Ron, and could not provide the amusing male-bonding that Harry was lacking, she was a good replacement. The mood was always light, albeit weird. But there was no tension, no arguments between anyone. It was funny, sweet, and the type of thing he certainly deserved after the energy-zapping morning. Especially as he needed to figure out exactly what Luna meant, since he felt that it would impact the rest of his day at work.

Or so he supposed.

With his two friends working on complete opposite sections of the Ministry, it fell upon Harry to choose which to grab first. And that, of course, usually led him to decide who had vexed him more. Despite what many believed, he found it better to grab the more irritating person first, or whoever he needed to have a serious discussion with. That way, they had to walk longer, even though they might feel like he values their company. Sure, it was a petty thought, but after Voldemort died, he was in need of some form of entertainment. And with the pair of them attempting to figure out a method to his madness, there was some sort of amusement.

Perhaps it was Slytherin of him; he cared little. He just wanted the grim amusement that came with watching the squirming, watching each little twitch.

Yes, that did sound a bit too Slytherin to him.

Brushing away the thoughts with the palms of his hands, the Chosen One wandered along the long hallways, occasionally sparing a glance or two to the many moving portraits, which greeted him with solemn nods and gentle winks. He did his best to return these, taking time to mention that their paintings looked to be in order, and that he was quite impressed with the way that the beige wallpaper matched their eyes. It was standard, yet kept everyone happy with their lives.

But there was one which had dragged him from his reverie, and threw him about the area. It was a small square, a portrait that had not caught his eye before. It was like it had attempted to draw the eye away from it, like some old hex Hermione had tried to explain to him. He couldn't really recall anything about the charm, but whatever it was; the little square must have been doing it. The painted stars were not twinkling, but they did shine, and he almost felt the urge to look away, and see a different object. It even forced his feet to slow, the steps coming to a stop.

Next to this portrayal stood a rather porky old man, who seemed to be preoccupied with other things, to the point that he was rather frustrated that Harry was standing directly in his view.

"Good sir! Move yourself, sir! I cannot count the stars! I cannot…"

He was pushed away, like the earlier thoughts of Harry's day. Instead, fingers traced the painted little castle, which seemed to him like a replica of Hogwarts, but larger, and much more alive. While the old school seemed to radiate with magic, this one seemed to be created by it. By magic! Imagine that!

And to get this from a picture!

Was he mad?

Perhaps he was, though he supposed that the thought wasn't technically able to be created simply from viewing a portrait. It must have been the light, a trick that came with his impending terror at what Luna had said.

Yes, that was it.

But fingers did stretch out once more, running along the canvas with a certain sense of fear which opened his senses a bit wider. There it was, as plain as day. A humming, or something like it, pulsing. Did he dare remark how strange it was to another painting, with the hopes that it would be explained to him? Though he wasn't exactly sure if that was going to aid him in his fruitless search, or the understanding of what strange things were happening, it was thought to be a relatively good idea. Almost with excitement, the wizard parted his lips, stepping back with a half-frown on his face.

"Excuse me," was the hesitant beginning, which then followed into, "Sir?"

The figure stared at him, looking like a disgruntled Santa Claus, a fact that Harry remarked with both amusement and pity. For a few moments, they both stared at each other, trying to decide if a reaction was necessary, and if conversation would ensue. Luckily for the curious man, it did, and in a hasty way which piqued his interest even more.

"Yes, yes, what do you want?"

Arms crossed, and a wand was produced, loosely swinging around his fingertips. They were still throbbing from his encounter with the strange picture, and therefore trembled, causing him to nearly drop his wand. It wasn't exactly the portrayal he had wished, though no ground was lost, despite what he was thinking.

"Do you know…? Erm… What's the subject of that little beauty over there?"

His garbled words took on a hasty spark, which was thought of as strange, but continued to give him the upper hand. They did, after all, continue to offer the man a reason to speak. After all, he did seem to be as enthralled with the stars in the artwork as much as, or more than, Harry himself was.

Perhaps more so, for he barrelled into the words without a second glance, staring at his companion with a sense of longing in darkened eyes. "The one above me, with the stars? Ah, yes, my boy, the stars. That is the school, the one over in… Oh, where is it again? I can't recall. Anyway, it's a fancy school. You know, I went there myself, when I was a boy."

"Another school? Not Hogwarts?"

The man sounded British, not having a foreign accent laced within. He could have very well been as mad as the night, talking about a school that, as far as everyone else was concerned, didn't exist. Another place, that wasn't Hogwarts! Bah! It wasn't possible! Sure, a school outside the realms of the very notable establishment, like in Brazil, or wherever the Weasley's had mentioned. And he was quite aware of the schools in America, and the other more notable educational places, like Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. But for there to be another school like Hogwarts, producing people similar to him!

"Of course! I didn't live close enough, you see, but the Headmaster was perfectly fine with that. He even was impressed that I had chosen to go there instead! He had gone to Hogwarts, as you should know, and told me that he hoped everything was to my liking. Perfectly fine, save for the strange boys who kept saying things like 'dude', or even the girls having new trinkets."

Harry felt his brows furrow, especially at the man's repetition of a word he thought was primarily American. However, nothing was said. Despite finding that the entire explanation of the school was stupid, he found himself actually interested. Maybe he could ask Hermione about it, and made sure to keep the thought in mind. After all, they were going to lunch…

Lunch! Cursing to himself, a quick excuse was made, and the man tripped down the hall, practically throwing himself in the direction of the 'Editor' section of the Quibbler's misshapen offices. For some reason, they insisted on being placed on the same floor as the Aurors, which, although nobody had any objections to, was a strange request in itself, often leading to arguments. But no complaints ever actually made it to the Head of either office, simply because they found it to be agreeable, occasionally. On easy days, there was the rare occurrence of a game of Exploding Snap, which brought all of the employees to their innocent days at Hogwarts.

If only the Quibbler didn't house so many strange characters.

At the point of murmuring this aloud, the young man continued to propel himself down the lengthy distance between their departments, almost regretting not getting Hermione first. With her, he only had to grab the lift, and quickly make his way to her desk. It wasn't difficult, and certainly didn't have intriguing paintings and insane portraits.

And they didn't have Octavia Augustus.

Luna had mentioned her name being created from her parents' obsession with Muggles, specifically the plays created by William Shakespeare. And thus was born her name, even though Hermione had attempted to explain the actual people to both females. But none were able to grasp it, not even Harry, who had grown up with Muggles. He supposed it had to do with his learning of magical things, and not having to know what happened in the silly, ordinary world.

Octavia Augustus had thoroughly agreed with him, and proceeded to enlighten him of the many ways to remove a beating heart from a person's body, magically.

That, in short, was one of her kinder statements, despite the pale, soft features she managed to possess. It puzzled him to no end, especially after asking her outright what her issue with him was. The question was answered with an arched brow, as well as a single gesture which she was reprimanded for by Luna.

She never did apologize, and if he hadn't so desperately needed to speak with his Ravenclaw friend, he would have asked Luna to simply meet up with him to get Hermione, or had Hermione deal with the meeting.

But, being who he was (the brave Gryffindor, of course), Harry had stridden in, sharply shoving aside the door which sheltered the oddities from the world.

"Oh, Harry!" exclaimed a wizard, who he recalled to have a name beginning with a 'Z'. "Luna was just talking about you! She said you'd be here."

"Oh, she did? Lovely. Do you know where she is?"

The man, who had primarily taken up his sight, luckily, responded with a negative, which therefore plunged Harry into the world of the strange, which he wasn't looking forward to. After offering the young man his thanks, the Auror bowed his head, and strode into the main chamber, gazing at the velvets which marked the walls and the ceiling.

Almost immediately, he managed to walk into a young woman. And, to coincide with his rather rotten luck for the day, it was the very person he had been hoping to hide from. "Madame Augustus," he murmured civilly, and cursed his luck with thoroughly, almost wishing that it was _Ron _in her place. He'd rather speak to his ex-best friend right then, rather than the psychopath!

"Please, Harry, just call me Octavia. We've been acquainted plenty of times before, don't you recall? Perhaps someone managed to slice open your head, and pick out pieces of your brain. Would you mind terribly if I took a peek, maybe just to set it straight?"

"Erm, no, but thank you, Octavia. Maybe next time?"

She looked rather depressed at this, but shrugged nonetheless, and twitched her nose. "Luna's in her office, since you're looking. And I'll hold you to that."

Almost forgetting to ask how she knew with his hasty attempt out, Harry jumped towards the oaken door of his friend's study, hitting it with the palm of his hand. Knowing that it was both harsh and obviously in distress, the petite witch did not give him long to wait, exiting from her abode at the exact moment that her friend hit the door again, succeeding in hitting her face.

"Eurgh! What did I do to deserve that, Harry?" the female exclaimed, rubbing the spot that had just been assaulted. Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Octavia Augustus, you get your nosy little arse out of here. Come on, get! Get! Harry and I are busy!"

"Busy trying to get to lunch, I wager," the other woman murmured, but did escape back to her bat cave, allowing the pair to pass unharmed.

"I'm really sorry about that, Harry. I know you think she's a piece of work, but she's a sweet girl! Give her a chance!"

"A chance?" he scoffed, and stared at Luna with suspicion in his eyes. "She's out to get you! I swear, there's something off in her head. Really."

Despite Luna's continued attempts to cajole him into approving of the obviously deranged female's actions, the Chosen One continued to adamantly detest her. This lasted a few good minutes, until, at long last, they came to both the lift (which _had _to be on the Quibbler's side, of course) and his reason for picking her up first.

A moment passed. "Luna?" Another second.

"Ah, you've gotten around to asking now. What's wrong with it, Potter?"

She always used his surname when amused, and with a confused look in his glistening orbs, he plunged ahead. "It's confusing me, of course. There haven't been any new laws passed, and there…"

He had trailed off at her gasp, which muffled the cool, crisp voice of the intercom announcing each level as they passed. His hands were tightly gripped around the handle, and Luna seemed to be standing up straight, ready to lean onto him for support. She did so immediately after the outburst, not even bothering to apologize. Halfway thinking that she was pregnant or something, his gaze travelled to her mid-section, which resulted in a smack upside the head, as well as the explanation.

"But, Harry, there have been! So many laws, too! We thought you knew!"

"No, that's wrong," the wizard countered. "I would've known. Kingsley has me in charge of that."

Her hands went to the back of his head again. "No, Potter, he doesn't. Educational Decrees, you dolt."

But he was already talking. "I mean, if it's something against me, I'm fine with that. You and Hermione can just eat lunch without me, and I'll do more work. But I would've liked a note or something proclaiming that you all of a sudden hated me. At least Ron had the sense to –

"Harry Potter, you listen to me right now!"

The lift's doors slid open with that, and as they exchanged their spots with a rather confused Arthur Weasely, the two ventured into the hallway, wandering towards Hermione's offices. It was during their trek that she attempted to explain the situation to him, quite concerned as to why he had not heard of such things before. This made Harry admit, rather reluctantly, that he hadn't kept track of many newspapers, even though he had thought that he had. Apparently, the Quibbler and the Prophet both were prohibited from talking about it.

But what was he supposed to read, if his most reliable sources were being told what to post?

It was in a patient tone that Luna listed out the other, smaller papers, though he had long since tuned her out. Instead, the wizard was thinking about the strange painting, and the school that was portrayed in it. The stars, the man had said. Could the name have something to do with stars? Maybe that was why there were so many on the painting. He knew that when Hogwarts was portrayed in colour by Dean, he had made sure to involve the houses. Maybe there were things about stars…

"Hello, Hermione. Were you coming to meet us?"

He blinked, once to remove the portrait from his view, and twice to fully admit his friend's appearance into his mind. She was standing with her hands on her hips, brows furrowed in the usual feature of contemplation and accusation. The witch tilted her head at the vacant stares appearing from both, nodding, her voice husky with effort once she attempted to speak. At first, Harry thought that it was primarily because she was exhausted, but at further looks, her eyes were rimmed with red.

"Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, Harry, fine. Just…"

"What did he _do _to you?"

She glared. "Don't you dare assume it was Ron, Harry."

"It was, wasn't it?"

"You wish, Potter. Leave him alone. What did he do to you?"

They had begun to walk then, with the conversation occasionally pausing, and picking up once more. Luna had, by then, stepped between the pair, so that they were glaring around each other, attempting to pick up the fight where they had begun.

"He refused to believe me, that's what!"

"Harry, Hermione, just stop, please."

"Hush, Luna. Potter, I've a bone to pick with you."

"A bone?"

"Or three."

"He didn't know about the laws, Hermione."

"Luna, shut it. What the hell did I do?"

"You instantly picked on my fiancé, that's what you did!"

With a huff, their lift opened up, a frustrated Octavia escaping. She gave them a sweet little grin, despite the glare she had recently been giving the ground. In her arms rested a perfect little replica of a school, one that looked like Hogwarts, but had slightly different towers. Harry would have done a double take, but he was too vexed by his friend to simply care.

"How was I supposed to know that he was your fiancé, huh?"

"When in disgrace, with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state."

"Luna," Hermione finally asked, her brow creeping a bit higher. "What in the world are you reciting Shakespeare for?"

"To get you both to shut up! I just wanted a nice, peaceful luncheon!"

"Nothing's peaceful with Hermione around!"

"Harry!"

"Will you both shut up?!"

"Conceit, in weakest bodies," announced another voice, this one softer, and much more pleasant to listen to.

"I'm sick of this! Stop picking on Ron! It's your fault Ginny left you!"

"Excuse me?! My fault?!"

"Conceit…"

"It isn't his fault!"

"Of course you'd side with him!"

"Conceit… The fault is in the stars… Conceit…"

"SHUT UP."

"The fault is in the stars… Conceit… Stars."

Lights flashed in the lift, and suddenly, they were plunging into the abyss.

"Stars…. Stars… Stars… Stars…"

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_This seems to have taken a weird turn at the end. What in the world is going on? Why is Octavia so damn strange? And what are these decrees that Harry doesn't know about? Please review, or even follow!_


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